A Suprise Match
by Rumaan
Summary: Lady Margaery had been enjoying her season as widow until her father demand she marry. As she weighs up her options she had not bargained on the Marquis of Wolfswood, Robb Stark. Regency AU drabbles
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Thanks to a prompt on tumblr from Maddylonglegs, I've developed a rather elaborate ASOIAF regency AU that is heavily influenced by my love of Georgette Heyer novels. I'm starting to upload all the connecting drabbles here and on AO3 because this world is growing. I currently have things written for two pairings,**** Robb x Margaery here, and Jon x Sansa in a separate story called _The Reclusive Earl. _I have an overall series name _The Marriage Mart_ and have more pairings brewing in my mind. So if you like this world, please keep an eye out for more.**

**None of these are beta'd so pleased excuse any mistakes.**

**Disclaimer: I am not GRRM and I'm sure he would side-eye my regency AU world.**

* * *

Lady Margaery Baratheon stomped into the library where two out of her three older brothers were currently reading the newspapers and slumped into a chair.

"It's not fair!" she declared dramatically, as her entrance had failed to gain any attention.

"What ails you, sweet sister?" Garlan asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Father," she sighed. "He is insisting I marry soon."

Margaery had removed her widow's weeds just after the season had started, and now that her mourning period was over for a husband-who-had-not-really-been-a-husband, she was enjoying the relative freedom of life as widow. She was no longer subjugated to the stifling propriety that young debutantes suffered and had thrown herself into a whirlwind of gaiety that was now threatened by her father's demand that she shackle herself to another eligible man.

Loras made a face in sympathy. Margaery knew that he was under the same pressure and any excuses he'd had of keeping Margaery company whilst she was in mourning had run out. Of course, it was Loras who had really mourned Renly's death, but society could not be aware of that or their name would be ruined.

"I thought the young Duke of Kingsland had caught your eye," Garlan commented.

Margaery wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"You've certainly been seen flirting with him enough," Garlan continued.

She shot her older brother a glare. "I do nothing as vulgar as flirt." Garlan snorted but Margaery decided to ignore his ungallant behaviour. "Joffrey is perfectly pleasant to while away an evening with, but I am perfectly sure that I would not wish to be married to him. No matter how wealthy his family is. Father, however, struggles to see beyond the gold."

"You'll have to marry sooner rather than later, Marg, you're far too pretty and young to get away with staying single for much longer. So, if you don't want Father to pick your bridegroom for you, then I suggest you go and find someone who is suitable."

Her brother's advice was sensible and she recognised the truth in it. However, she had yet to meet anyone she had taken a fancy to.

* * *

The park during the height of the season was a press of people, horses and carriages. Margaery flicked the reins of her phaeton as she picked Loras up from one of the walks. The dashing Lady Margaery and her phaeton was an idiosyncrasy that she had been keen foster. Her grandmother, Lady Olenna, always said it was better to stand out in a crowd, that way you were sure to get noticed. It was advice that Margaery had followed to the letter, even during her debut season, when standing out in any other way than beauty was walking the fine line between acceptance by the _haute ton_ and being considered fast. She had always stepped close to the line but never gone beyond it, knowing her reputation and ability to make a good match was of paramount importance.

"How does the quest to avoid a match with Renly's odious nephew go?" Loras asked.

"Not too well," Margaery said as she spied the Targaryen landaulet in the distance. The distinct auburn hair of Sansa Stark could be see sitting next to the dark haired Princess Rhaenys. A curricle was blocking her view of the other inhabitants but she would bet that Lord Snow sat opposite. "It's a shame Lord Snow seems so taken with Sansa Stark," she remarked to her brother.

Loras gave her an amused look. "You stand no chance. The odds in in the clubs grow ever shorter. If he is not engaged to the Stark girl by the end of the season then I'll eat my hat."

"Gentlemen never fail to amaze me with how odious they can be, betting on the prospect of a marriage. Besides, Lord Snow is handsome enough but far too solemn for my tastes, and getting him to come to Town for the season every year would be nigh on impossible."

The curricle finally moved on and Margaery spied a second head of auburn hair in the landaulet. "Who is that with them?" she asked her brother.

He glanced over. "Must be Lady Sansa's brother."

"Yes, I gathered that," she said astringently. "They look enough alike for anyone to make that observation. But who is he?"

"Robb, I believe his name is. Marquis of Wolfswood and the Duke of Winterfell's heir."

Margaery tapped her whip thoughtfully on the side of the phaeton and Loras laughed. "He's not your style, Marg. Lacks Town bronze. All the Starks do."

As they passed the Targaryen landaulet, Margaery caught his eye and smiled. _He's handsome enough to be my style and Town bronze can be overrated._

* * *

Robb craned his neck to see over the heads in the squeeze of the ball he was attending with his sister and aunt. Sansa was already off dancing and if Lord Snow did not appear soon, then she would have no more dances to give him. But just as he thought it, a hand clapped him on the shoulder and he turned to see Jon.

When his father had sent him to London to gauge the eligibility of the Targaryen Earl making up to Sansa, Robb had not expected to like him. None of the court cards Sansa had mooned over had ever appealed to him before. But had had not been expecting someone like Jon, who was more silent than talkative, and was nothing like the dandified jackanapes Sansa had giggled with Jeyne Poole over.

However, it hadn't been Lord Snow that he was looking for, but the beautiful brunette he had seen in the park earlier. When the phaeton had passed, Robb had pretended to be interested in the horse and Jon had told him the Tyrells were famous for their horses, Lord Willas breeding them himself. Armed with that basic information, it had not taken him long to find out the beauty's name was Lady Margaery Baratheon, the widow of Lord Renly Baratheon.

A flash of chestnut curls caught his eye and he espied Lady Margaery disappearing out onto the balcony just as the current dance ended. As Sansa was escorted back to Aunt Lysa by her partner, and as the ladies fussed over Lord Snow, Robb made his escape.

"I had almost given up on you," a voice said coming out of the darkness to his left.

Robb turned and saw Lady Margaery standing at the end of the balcony, away from the light streaming out the ballroom. He walked down towards her.

"Forgive me, my lady, I did not know you were waiting for me."

"Then you made a bold move coming after a lady you did not think was waiting for you. I like bold people, Lord Stark."

"You know who I am?"

She gave him a knowing look. "As I am sure you know who I am."

He silently cursed the flush that came into his cheeks at her words. This was not one of the shy little girls who would blush when he asked them to dance at the assembly rooms near Winterfell.

The strains of a waltz could be heard starting up from the ball. "Do you know how to waltz, Lord Stark?"

"Of course I do!" he said stung.

She smiled up at him. "My apologies, my lord, I did not meant to doubt your skill, but this is your first time in London is it not?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"No," she said. "But I am sure I would have noticed you before."

Flustered, he was unsure how to respond. The daughters around Winterfell had never been as bold as Lady Margaery. So he settled for a safe question. "Would you do me the honour of dancing this waltz with me? Then I you will be able to judge my dancing ability for yourself."

She laughed at that and a delightful dimple came out to play at the corner of her mouth. "Alas, Lord Stark, I am afraid my hand has already been claimed. Perhaps another time. However, I would be grateful for your escort back the ballroom.

He held his arm out. "It would be my pleasure, my lady."

As they entered the ballroom, Lady Margaery untucked her hand from his arm, and before he knew it, he had captured it in his and was pressing an old fashioned kiss on the back of her hand. "It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Lady Margaery."

She hesitated as she pulled her hand back, and as she looked up at him, he noticed the arch playfulness had left her face, leaving it a little guarded. "Likewise, Lord Stark," she said, a little seriously, before turning towards the partner coming to claim her hand.

Robb watched as Lady Margaery turned elegantly around the floor, a teasing expression once more on her face as she talked to her partner and he found himself fascinated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: These are connecting drabbles and not plotted chapters so there will be things missing and jumps in time.**

* * *

Robb sighed with frustration as he turned down yet another lit walk searching for his Aunt Lysa. It seemed ridiculous to him that she would prove to be more difficult to chaperone than Sansa. He had not suspected anything when she had changed their plans and demand that he escort her to Vauxhall Gardens. He had gone uncomplainingly despite the hope that he would see Lady Margaery at the Stokeworth ball.

This had been his first time at the celebrated gardens and he had enjoyed the scull ride across the river, where they had entered via the water gate. He thought about how much Arya, Rickon and Bran would have been enchanted by the gardens laid out as they were in colonnades and groves and lit by thousands of lights. How much they would have enjoyed the supper with the wafer thin slices of ham that the garden was famous for and the firework display afterwards. Robb would have enjoyed that too, but that had been when Aunt Lysa had disappeared.

One moment she had been standing next to him, seemingly enjoying the display and the next she was gone.

Now Robb was combing the endless walks trying to discover just where his aunt had gotten to. Thoughts of Sir Petyr Baelish filled his mind. Lord Snow had been quick to tell him about the scoundel and his improper attentions to Sansa. It seemed as if the rogue had been out of their lives for good until he had called upon the Arryn household last week, a slick smile and posy of flowers for Aunt Lysa in his hand. He had spared Sansa no attention beyond the polite and had been affable to Robb. Aunt Lysa had refused to listen to any of the detrimental things Robb had said about him afterwards.

Robb turned onto yet another walk, one that was remarkably ill-lit. _Probably to encourage lovers,_ he thought. He stopped as the sound of a commotion came from up ahead and was about to turn around and give whatever lovers he had stumble upon their privacy when he heard, "No! Stop it, Joff!"

The sound of panic in the lady's voice was very real and he strode forward.

There in the dim light, he made out the pale silhouette of a lady. From the style of her gown, she was no demi-rep but a lady of quality, and was clearly struggling against the improper advances of a rake.

Putting his hand forcibly on the scoundel's shoulder, Robb pulled him away from the lady and hesitated for a brief second as he gazed on the dishevelled form of Lady Margaery. As he struggled to put his thoughts in order, the cad who had been restraining her landed a right hook on the side of Robb's head. Turning, Robb faced his attacker and knocked him down with a well-placed upper cut. As the other man fell, Robb recognised him as the Duke of Kingsland and his temper rose, not only for the harm he had also caused his sister but also for the rude manner in which he had been handling Lady Margery. He stepped forward, his fists still clenched until Lady Margaery grabbed onto his arm.

"Oh, no! Please, don't, Lord Stark."

His anger subsided and he became aware of his surroundings. "My apologies, Lady Margaery. I should not have resorted to fisticuffs in your presence."

She raised her eyes to his. "I am glad you were here to do so."

He shot a glance at the unconscious man. "Is he your escort for the evening?"

"No, I am here with my brothers, but he offered to show me some more of the gardens," she said before biting her lip and adding, "He has never been discourteous before."

"I should hope not!"

"I would not want you to think that I came willingly to such a walk either, Lord Stark." She said hesitatingly.

Robb looked down and saw an earnest expression on her face. It was a change from the playful teasing look she usually wore. Not that he had seen that lately, as since that night they had first met, she had avoided him. He had wondered what had made her seek him out in the first place if she was going to make excuses as to why she could not dance with him since.

"Let me return you to your brothers, my lady," he said.

They walked up the dimly lit walk back to the main grove in silence, however before they returned to the masses, Robb stopped and turned to face her. "Before we return to your family, my lady, you are positive Lord Baratheon has never treated you in that manner before? I would not judge you harshly, not after how he treated my sister."

"No," she said. "I would have spoken out to either Loras or Garlan, I promise you, Lord Stark."

Relief rushed through Robb. He did not wish to think that Lady Margaery had also been a victim to such a cad. He drew a deep breath before asking the question that had been on his lips for the past sennight. "Why have you not spoken to me since that night on the balcony?"

Her eyes briefly met his before she looked away. "I am not sure what you mean," she said lightly.

"Please, Lady Margaery, do not play games with me. You sought my acquaintance only to then ignore me at every social function we have met since."

"I did not think it would matter," she said in that same horribly forced light tone.

"So, if I were to tell you that I was leaving Town to return to Winterfell in two days, it would mean nothing to you?" Her eyes flew back to his, a startled expression in them, and he smiled. "I thought not."

She tossed her head. "I am not sure what you mean."

"Don't! Don't do that, Lady Margaery. I would like to know you more and I think you feel the same."

Her playful smile peeped out. "Are you always this persistent, Lord Stark?"

"I am when it is something I want."

Her eyebrows rose. "And I am something you want?"

"Further acquaintance with you is something I would like."

"If you return me to my brothers, it might be possible to arrange that."

"No more avoidance?"

"I'll keep a waltz at the Marbrand ball free."

"The supper dance," Robb pushed.

"I knew you were bold," she said with a laugh, before nodding her head in agreement.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: There should be more of this come, along with different pairings. Feel free to follow me on tumblr for where I tend to post these first and where my ask box is always open should you have any Robb x Margaery prompts!**

* * *

"So the Stark boy," the Dowager Countess said as soon as the Earl had left the room. "Your father is not happy."

Margaery looked up from the bread she was buttering and tried to gauge her grandmother's reaction. When it came to the question of her marriage, the Dowager Countess' support would go a long way in easing any opposition from her family.

"Nothing is settled," she said.

Her grandmother took a sip of tea and said, "I should hope not."

Margaery's heart sank at the lack of enthusiasm in her grandmother's tone. She had no hope in pursuing a possible match if her grandmother was not on board.

"Oh don't look so down, gel! I've not set my heart against this boy of yours yet." Another sip of tea was taken. "The Starks are an old family. Older than ours. There is no problem with the match there."

Hopes rising, Margaery took a nibble at her bread, knowing that to speak now would only make her grandmother irritated.

"No ambition, that's the problem. They could hold power if they wanted but Ned Stark's content to remain up in the North, running that ridiculously large estate of his. No, your father is right that the Baratheon match would suit us more."

"But Grandmama-"

The Dowager raised a hand and Margaery subsided at once. "Don't think I'm blind to the disadvantages of that match either. The Dowager Duchess for one and the Duke's reputation is not as one would like. That fiasco with the Stark gel," her grandmother said, shaking her head. "That was ill-done."

There was silence whilst the Dowager Countess tucked into her devilled kidneys. For such a small woman, her grandmother had a surprising appetite, and Margaery could only look on in awe as she polished off kidneys and pulled the platter of ham and eggs closer.

"Bring the boy to see me," she said, spooning eggs onto her plate. "And I hope he has more charm than that father of his."

Margaery jumped up and gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek before being waved away with an irritated hand. "Oh do stop, gel! You'll give me indigestion," her grandmother said.

* * *

"I hear the Dowager Countess of the Reach has arrived in Town," Prince Aegon said, with an arch look in Robb's direction.

"That old harridan?" Sir Harold said. "Maybe the rumours are true and Lady Margaery is about to accept an offer from the Duke of Kingsland."

Robb could not help the frown that marred his face briefly and the amused smile on Prince Aegon's face told him that he had not missed it.

"Perhaps," Prince Aegon said non-committedly. "But I hear Lady Margaery grows weary of Baratheon."

Robb suppressed a snort. She did not grow weary of him but avoided him at all costs since the incident at Vauxhall Gardens. Lady Margaery had far too much intelligence to put herself in that situation again.

Sir Harold Hardyng leaned forward all ears. "Found a better prospect has she?"

There was another sidelong glance from Prince Aegon and Robb was pleased that their company this evening at Whites was the unobservant Sir Harold. "I could not possibly say," Prince Aegon replied diplomatically.

Sir Harold puffed his chest up. "I might have a go at the beauty myself," he said contemplatively and it took all Robb's patience to keep his tongue still.

Once Sir Harold had taken his leave, Prince Aegon turned to Robb and said, "You did well not to come to blows with Sir Harold."

"That rattle?" Robb said, the contempt heavy in his tone.

"I take it the formidable Dowager has made the journey to London in order to meet you?"

"I couldn't possibly say."

Prince Aegon laughed. "Well, I'm off to call in on my sister. She will know the details you guard so closely to your chest."

The only reason Prince Aegon knew anything about his situation with Margaery was because somehow Princess Rhaenys had known all about Vauxhall Gardens, despite Robb not telling anyone and Lady Margaery's brothers being the only other people aware.

Perhaps it was the warmth both Garlan and Loras held towards him, gratitude for his timely intervention making them go out of their way to be friendly. They had also been willing accomplishes in furthering his relationship with Margaery, despite of their father's obvious disapproval.

However, Princess Rhaenys had not become aware of the fact that Robb had been invited to a select dinner at the Tyrell town house tomorrow evening. He was anxious just thinking about it. It was imperative that he made a good impression on the Dowager Countess or any hopes he held of being granted Margaery's hand would be dashed.

* * *

"Grandmama, I would like you to meet the Marquis of Wolfswood."

Margaery was pleased to note that her voice held no sign of the nerves she felt. Lord Stark looked dashing in a blue coat that matched his eyes perfectly. His handsome appearance would certainly weigh in his favour with her grandmother.

"Lady Olenna," Lord Stark said, executing a neat bow and pressing a kiss on the back of her hand.

"Bend down, boy, my eyesight is not what it was once. Let me see what has made my niece all giddy."

"Grandmama-" Margaery started to say, mortified.

Lord Stark however flashed her a reassuring smile and crouched before the Dowager.

"Hmm…far more handsome than your father, that's for sure. You have the Tully look. Now stand up and turn around."

"Yes, ma'am," Lord Stark said, turning slowly. Margaery's heart almost gave out when Lord Stark cheekily lifted the back tails of his coat so the Dowager Countess could inspect everywhere. She glared at him but stopped when her grandmother laughed.

"Oh, this one is bold, Margaery, dear. Now go away, gel, and let me speak to him without your fussing."

Half an hour later, Lord Stark escorted the Dowager back towards Margaery before the Dowager dismissed him and told him to go and chit-chat with one of her mutton headed grandsons. He accepted all this with good grace and with no more than a nod in Margaery's direction.

"A fine beau you have yourself there, young lady," the Dowager started to say, and Margaery clasped her hands together to stop from fidgeting. "Got his mother's looks but has his uncle's charm."

"His uncle?"

Margaery knew Lord Stark had an uncle, a major in the army who had been killed early on in the Peninsular campaign.

"Oh, not the younger one. The one who died years ago. Lord Eddard's older brother. Charming scapegrace he was but he had no substance. Turned his curricle over in a race and broke his neck."

Margaery's heart sank. Lady Olenna would not approve of such accidents. She would view it as wasteful. Whilst the Dowager might approve of a pretty face, she had no time for a lack of intelligence. She was scathing about her own son, Lord Mace, and he was not nearly as stupid as his mother made out.

Her grandmother tapped her cheek with her fan. "Lucky for you, the young Marquis has enough of his father in him to be more than an empty-headed charmer."

A smile broke out on Margaery's face. "Would you support the match?" she asked.

The Dowager Countess patted her hand. "No need for your fidgets, gel. I'll speak to your buffoon of a father for you. Now why don't you go and tell that handsome boy of yours the good news."

The setting made it impossible for Margaery to fling her arms around her grandmother as she wished, instead she floated over to where Lord Stark was talking to Loras and Garlan and beamed as she twined her arms through Loras'.

"Perhaps I should start to call you brother," Garlan said to Lord Stark, a wry smile on his face.


End file.
